The Damned
by denise1
Summary: Poor SG-11, they never get a break


The Damned

By

Denise

Three figures hurried down the hall on level 25, one of them pulling on his jacket as he walked.

"You honestly think he's going to be THERE?" Sargent Kaleb Walters asked.

"He's been down here every day," Lieutenant Linda Parker told her teammates. "Ever since he met with the general about our next mission.

"At least we don't have to rescue SG-1," Sargent Vijay Singh interjected with a laugh. "I've heard stories from the old timers. The only mission that's more dreaded than rescuing SG-1 is escorting Doctor Jackson," the tall man said, a grimace crossing his dark face.

Both his teammates rolled their eyes and silently agreed.

Though no one would dare to voice their opinion on the base, behind his back personnel muttered about the 'Jackson Curse'. Of course these mutterings were discrete. Very discrete. Not only was the good doctor apparently a friend of General Hammond, the simple fact that Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter, Doctor Fraiser and Teal'c would rise to his defense…most emphatically, was enough to keep the gossip circumspect.

Add to it that if it weren't for Doctor Jackson none of them would even be here…so any feelings if ill will were greatly tempered with gratitude and respect.

Of course there was also the fact that he was just a nice guy.

The trio came to a stop outside the chapel and glanced through he door. They shared a look at the sight of their CO sitting in one of the pews, staring straight ahead. For a moment their curiosity warred with decorum…and won.

As one they opened the door, filed into the chapel and took places by their leader.

Major Christopher Hill gave them a bare glance and riveted his attention back forward, staring at the plain wooden altar as if he expected it to stand up and run around like something in a Disney movie.

The quartet sat there in silence for a moment then Sargent Walters made a show of checking his watch.

"So sir…you do know we ship out in less than an hour?" he asked.

"Yes," Major Hall replied, watching the faint shadows cast by the candlelight flicker off the white walls.

"Sir. Is something wrong?" Lieutenant Parker asked, raising her eyes up from the study of her boots, their black color contrasting with the rich burgundy of the carpet.

"No."

"Well if nothings wrong, then why are you here?" Sargent Singh asked bluntly. It was his way to be straightforward, which is why they usually let Kaleb do the talking.

"Sargent," Hill replied, emphasizing the man's rank. "Since when do I have to explain myself to you?"

"Since you started hanging out in the chapel," he retorted, a long friendship with the man giving him the leeway most sergeants did not have with their CO's. Not that he really needed it. They were a good group, working well together. They had a respect for each other that superceded their ranks.

"If I remember right you once told me you only went to church on Christmas and Easter," Linda reminded. Which were two more times a year than she did. For her churches were for weddings and funerals.

"And since it's October…" Kaleb interjected.

Christopher sighed. "Ok. You're all going to hear it in the briefing anyway…"

"There you are." A voice interrupted.

The four members of the group turned to see Rabbi Kenner, one of the chaplains assigned to the SGC bustle into the chapel. He hurried across the small room and stopped beside them.

"Rabbi. What brings you here?' Chris asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Just the usual," he replied, opening the folder he carried and passing the forms out.

They looked at them. It was their wills, along with next of kin notification and a summation of their death benefits. Morbidly standard paperwork to be reviewed each time a team left through the gate.

"Shouldn't we get these at the briefing?' Singh asked, frowning. "Unless of course you're trying to tell us something?" he asked pointedly.

"No. No," the man hurried to reassure. "It's just…your departure time has been moved up a bit so I thought I'd save you the time."

"Moved up? Since when?" Hill demanded.

"Just now. SG-4 just called. They have a large shipment of trinium to send back and the general would like you to disembark early so they don't have to wait for you, or pause in the transfer while you leave."

Major Hill frowned then nodded. Maybe it was better this way; the sooner it started the sooner it would be over.

They each glanced over the papers then handed them back to the Rabbi. "Well," Hill broke the awkward silence. "If we're shipping out early we better get geared up," he said, gaining his feet.

His teammates followed suit and trailed him as he paused at the back wall.

They stood in respectful silence in front of the wall, its surface covered with tiny resin stargates hanging neatly in rows. Some were black, others white, and there were far too many of them. Far too many men and women who died or went missing in service to their country. One of them stood out from the rest its black surface painted with the symbol for Abydos. Her home planet. That was another reason most found it hard to hate Doctor Jackson. Most everyone here had lost friends through the gate, but he was the only one to lose his wife.

Nobody'd be hanging more of them if he had anything to say about it, Chris thought.

None of them noticed the Rabbi hanging back, silently saying a prayer of blessing over them.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Major Hall led his team from the armory to the gateroom at a brisk walk cursing the Sargent who hadn't had their weapons ready. Now they would have just enough time to get to the gateroom and disembark before SG-4 tied up the gate.

They entered the gateroom just as the seventh chevron locked and the wormhole opened with a whoosh.

Chris looked up at the control room. "He's coming," Sargent Davis reported, reading the major's unspoken question.

Singh glanced at his three companions. "He?"

"Aah sir. We're all here," Kaleb said puzzled.

"Major?"

Chris sighed. "Well, since there wasn't time for a full briefing…" he started, might as well get it over with. "We're on a simple survey mission…"

"If it's so simple why are we all packing extra ammo?" Singh interrupted.

"And I have three med kits," Kaleb reported.

"Three? I have two AND four pounds of coffee," Linda interjected.

A horrible feeling descended on the trio and they turned incredulous faces to their CO.

"No."

"Please sir. Not that."

"We're screwed," Vijay said succinctly.

"Now look. It's not that bad…" Hill hurried to reassure.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I had trouble finding Crutail's Notations on Pre-Columbian cultures," Daniel Jackson said, hurrying into the room, a bemused Colonel O'Neill on his tail.

"That's ok sir," Hill said, silencing his people with a glare.

"Daniel have fun," O'Neill said, patting his friend on his back.

"Thanks Jack. You too," he replied following Singh, Kaleb and Linda up the ramp.

"We'll take care of him sir," Hill reassured the colonel.

"See that you do," Jack replied.

The major nodded and turned. "SG-11 you have a go," Hammond called.

Hill sighed heavily. "You heard the man people. Move out," he ordered. He took one last glance around and saluted the general. "We who are about to die salute you," he muttered as he followed his team. Vijay was right. They were SO screwed.

Fin


End file.
